


Demonstrating One's Talent

by BunnyBopper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Body Horror Elements, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Pre-Slash, Snockhart, but it is a fun fic i swear!, sxvxrxssnape's Snapetober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26928061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyBopper/pseuds/BunnyBopper
Summary: Help arrives from an unexpected source when Ron takes unwell after his and Harry's night in the Forbidden Forest. Make that two unexpected sources.
Relationships: Gilderoy Lockhart/Severus Snape
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55
Collections: Snapetober





	Demonstrating One's Talent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sxvxrxssnape's snapetober 2020! Prompts 10: 'you're bleeding' and 22: collapsed

Defence Against the Dark Arts should have been Harry's favourite class. It was certainly the one he got the best marks in, and no one could deny that he, of all people, needed to know how to defend himself. Considering that he'd had a close encounter with the world's most powerful dark wizard, who just happened to be very keen on murdering him, in his first year alone. 

And it would have been his favourite class if not for the simpering, stuck-up, pompous twat of a teacher they had. For all his self-proclaimed skill and expertise in battling Dark Forces, Harry couldn't think of one useful thing Lockhart had taught them this year. And with a monster running loose about the castle no less! 

It was unusual for Harry to arrive at the egotistical dolt's class on time, let alone early, but with Hermione still petrified in the Hospital Wing and Ron sleeping the day away after their terrifying introduction to Aragog last night, that is exactly where he found himself. He'd planned to spend the extra few minutes quietly pondering what it all meant – the mirror, the writing on the wall, the spiders – but, once he arrived on the third-floor corridor, he saw that something else unusual was going on. 

Lockhart was slumped against the wall outside his classroom talking miserably away to himself. "I just...I simply cannot begin to fathom why he isn't interested!" 

Interest piqued and having been provided cover by a handy suit of armour, Harry stopped to listen as a female voice came out of nowhere. 

"Well perhaps if you were a little more...modest?" 

It was then Harry realised Lockhart was not, in fact, talking to himself, but to a painting. One of a very pretty – and very naked – water nymph. Harry hadn't noticed it last year and rather suspected Lockhart of placing it there himself. She had large, ocean eyes alluringly framed with dark lashes and long brown hair that was perpetually wet from the fact that she spent all her time lazing in a lily pond, the flowers of which only just protected her modesty. 

"One tries to be, my dear lady, truly. It's just rather difficult when one's talents are so..." Lockhart looked off into the distance, as though trying to come up with a word that properly conveyed such talents was a challenge in and of itself, "...abundant." 

"Quite." The nymph scrunched up her delicate features as though she'd swallowed something foul, but Lockhart didn't seem to notice. 

"Honestly, I mean, I'm not one to boast but I've never had this sort of trouble before – romantic trouble I mean – I'm used to having a line of ladies and gentlemen, all vying for my affections, long enough to stretch out the door! And now I'm reduced to lamenting my sorrows to a painting!" 

"Excuse me!" said the nymph, thumping the water with her fist to create an angry splash. "I do have other things to do besides sit here and listen to you moaning about your love life!" Harry wasn't quite sure what 

Lockhart shrank further down the wall. "My apologies," he mumbled. "I simply meant-" 

"Look," the nymph began, with more pity in her voice this time. More than Harry could dream of showing someone so arrogant, at any rate. "Perhaps if you demonstrated your talents in front of him, rather than just...discussing them at great length...he'd take more of an interest." 

"Alas!" Lockhart moaned. "I've been trying! Starting small, you know, so as not to overwhelm him. Just the other night I tried showing him the best way to skin a flobberworm but he chased me out of his office before I could even get the jar off his shelf!" 

Flobberworms? Harry only knew of one teacher disgusting enough to keep jars of those in his office...but...it couldn't be! 

"I thought demonstrating my prowess at our duelling club would have been enough!" Lockhart rambled on. "But the poor darling must have been too intimidated by me..." 

No, Harry thought. No, no, no, no- 

"Have you tried getting a little more...physical?" the nymph asked, rolling onto her side in the murky pool and running a hand over her ample hip to help get her point across. 

"I must confess that I'm not above using my...sexuality...in these situations, but even that has failed me! I tried to take advantage of the summer heat, asked him if he wouldn't mind my taking off my shirt when we found ourselves alone in the staff room one stifling evening..." 

The nymph's eyes lit up. "And? what happened?" 

"He blast me with a cooling charm! He didn't stop until icicles were dangling from my nose!" 

"Hmmm..." The nymph sighed. "I never thought I'd say this, but perhaps you should just give up." 

"I fear you may be right, dear lady," said Lockhart sadly. "But I must be going – my students shall be here shortly. I have so much to fill their bright, young minds with!" With an elaborate wave towards the painting, he strutted off into the classroom. 

Harry stayed where he was, letting the other students push past him to get to their seats. The girls giggled excitedly as they always did. He wondered what they would say if Harry told them Lockhart had a crush on Professor Snape. 

*** 

Harry had been itching to tell Ron about what he'd overheard all day, but when he got back to Gryffindor Tower, he found his friend still sleeping. Getting a little concerned now, Harry pulled the sweat-soaked covers back from his face and gently shook him awake. 

"Urrrggghhh," Ron moaned, "times' it?" 

"Everyone's down at dinner," said Harry, by way of answer. "How are you feeling?" 

"Not so good, mate." 

He didn't look it either. Ron's face was ghastly pale behind his freckles and he was talking through his teeth as if trying to bite back waves of nauseating pain. 

"I think we need to get you to the hospital wing." 

Ron, as though talking required far too much effort, simply nodded. 

Getting there wasn't going to be that easy though. It took three tries before Ron was able to stand and the only way he was going to remain upright was by Harry slinging his friend's arm over his own shoulder and taking most of his weight. They were both panting before they'd even got down the stairs. 

Harry looked around the common room desperately in the hope that someone's appetite had forgone them that night and would still be around to help, but it was deserted. Heaving Ron over his shoulder again, he surrendered himself to the fact they had to make their way to the Hospital Wing alone. 

*** 

This was bad. Harry was starting to think he should have left Ron in the common room and gone to fetch help rather than trying to lug him all the way down to the first floor by himself. Ron was still managing, somehow, to shuffle one foot weakly in front of the other, but he wasn't speaking at all, and his eyes kept fluttering closed so Harry had to steer them both through the endless hallways. But they were already on the third floor and Harry really didn't want to leave Ron alone. Better they just push on. With any luck, someone might- 

"Potter!" 

Someone else. Please. 

But, of course, it was Snape who was striding towards them, a storming mess of menace and black robes. "And Weasley! Why are you not at dinner? There is no excuse to be wandering about the castle during these times-" Harry wanted to ask Snape why he was wandering the castle instead of sitting with the other teachers in the Great Hall, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. "-or perhaps, as always, you feel the rules don't apply to you?" 

"Sir - you don't understand – Ron's-" As if to illustrate his point, Ron fell from Harry's arms and collapsed onto the floor. Harry immediately crouched down and began to shake him, repeatedly calling his name, but Ron didn't stir. Harry turned desperately to Snape who had stiffened with shock. "Sir! We need to-" 

"Get out of the way, Potter!" he snapped, pushing Harry to the floor in his haste to get to Ron. He jumped straight into action right away, digging his fingers hard into Ron's neck, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. The thought of being touched by those hands made Harry's skin crawl, but neither he nor Ron were in the position to be choosy right now. 

"What happened?" Snape asked, loosening the buttons of Ron's striped pyjamas to better see the shallow rise and fall of his breathing. 

"I-I don't know!" Harry stammered. 

"Did he ingest something?" 

"I don't think so!"

"Think, Potter!" said Snape, voice echoing down the corridor as he turned his full attention to Harry. "The two of you must have been meddling in something you shouldn't!" 

Harry was spared from answering as a sing-song voice drifted up the corridor. "Oh Severuuuus?" Both he and Snape turned to look simultaneously. 

"There you are!" Lockhart beamed as he rounded the corner and caught sight of the three of them. He didn't seem to question why they were on the floor. "You left before they served dessert! And before I could finish telling you about my latest line of haircare potions – I really think the tea tree and dandelion root shampoo would do wonders for your-" 

"Not now you buffoon!" Snape hissed. 

"I say," said Lockhart, noticing that one of their party was unconscious for the first time, "what's wrong with this poor fellow?" 

"That's what I'm trying to determine!" Snape turned his furious face back to Harry. "But Potter here cares more about saving his own hide than the life of his friend, it seems." 

"We were in the forest!" Harry blurted out. "There were these...these spider things." 

"Weasley was bitten?" asked Snape. 

"No!" There's no way Ron could have kept that to himself. "He was fine! He was just tired today. I thought it was just because we were out so late! All he said last night was that his back was weirdly itchy!" 

Lockhart, who had been babbling away to himself about the time he had once bested an army of giant arachnids single-handedly, and how it was such a shame he had not been there to help, suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He was staring at Ron, eyes fixed on his torso. Then, in a voice Harry had never heard him use before, he said, "Open his shirt." 

Both Harry and Snape just stared at him. 

"Do it!" he commanded, kneeling down on the floor next to them. Snape hastily obeyed, deftly unbuttoning Ron's shirt and revealing his freckled chest. Harry watched as Lockhart, with none of his usual flair or pretence to be seen, began examining Ron's torso, kneading and prodding at his friend's flesh as if he actually knew what to look for. When he got to the lower left side of Ron's stomach, he froze. 

"Oh dear," he whispered to himself. "Nothing to do but cut it out I'm afraid." 

"Cut it-?" Snape spluttered. "Just what in Salazar's name are you going on about, man?!" 

"Oh no!" Harry interrupted finally. "I'm not letting you do anything to him! Remember what you did to my arm?! We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey!" 

"There's no time, dear boy!" Lockhart exclaimed, pulling out his wand from somewhere deep amongst his periwinkle robes. "And I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey, wonderful as she is, would be in over her head with this. I, however, know what I'm doing." Lockhart looked at Snape over Ron's body. "I really do this time," he added. 

Snape, his expression unfathomable, opened his mouth to say something. Harry hoped he was finally going to insist on taking Ron as far away from Lockhart as possible and get him the appropriate help. But all that came out was a strangled gasp, that Harry closely followed with one of his own when something in Ron's chest...moved. 

"Immobulus!" said Lockhart, pointing his wand at the protruding mass under Ron's skin before anyone could stop him. The...thing...slowed in its progress but continued travelling upwards. "Blast, it's a strong one," he muttered. "Severus. I need you to keep the curse going – don't overdo it though. It'll affect Weasley, too, but there's really no other way..." 

Snape looked as though he was about to object, but something – the authoritative tone to Lockhart's voice perhaps - made him whip out his own wand, aim it at Ron's chest, and begin chanting some unknown curse in a low, melodic hum. 

"Now, Harry?" said Lockhart, kindly but firmly. "I'm going to need you to support Weasley's head, he may start jerking around a bit, do you think you can do that?" 

Harry just nodded, unable to speak. He shifted his position so as he was crouched at the top of Ron's head and slid his hands underneath to cushion the bony part of his skull. He looked anxiously between Snape, still focused intently on the thing now inching up Ron's ribcage, and Lockhart who, with a flick of his wrist, transfigured his raised wand into a shining, wicked scalpel. Harry swallowed. Ron, please survive so you can forgive me for letting this happen! Or punch me in the face – either way just please be okay! 

"Severus?" Lockhart positioned his blade horrifyingly close to Ron's skin. "I know you're concentrating but listen to me. Once it's out it will try to burrow into the nearest living thing and that will, most likely, be me. You must kill it as quickly as possible. Understand?" 

Snape, looking several shades paler than usual, jerked his head by way of acknowledgement, never once breaking his curse. 

"Ready, then? One." 

Harry found himself wishing Hermione was there. 

"Two." 

Merlin, he wished Colin Creevey was there! Anyone other than these two! 

"Three." 

Thick, dark blood poured from Ron's skin as the blade pierced him. So much blood! Lockhart must have done something wrong! But he kept slicing downward, slow and steady. Snape hovering over the whole time, humming his strange words. 

A sickening screech, not unlike that of a mandrake, filled the air. The sound was garbled and bubbling through the blood which pooled endlessly within Ron's chest. Harry, wanting desperately to look away from the scene but finding himself unable to, thought he could make out something white wriggling angrily within Ron's wound. He watched with horror as a sharp, insect-like leg jutted out, then another, and another, flailing in the air in a frantic attempt to defend itself. 

Then it burst out of Ron's chest. 

Harry's vision was suddenly obscured as a splattering of red coated his glasses. He quickly shook them off, figuring his own limited vision was preferable to seeing nothing at all. He began to feel Ron's body jerk underneath him and tried to put all his focus into supporting his friend's head, but it was rather difficult with the strange creature rearing before him. 

Harry couldn't see it clearly, but he could see enough. It was like a spider and not like a spider at the same time. About half the size of Harry's fist, its body was long, pale and slightly bulbous at the end. Six bony-looking legs that ended in razor-sharp points wriggled helplessly, trying to grasp on to whatever has disturbed it. It must have had a mouth (otherwise how else could it make that awful, ear-piercing sound?) but, for the life of him, Harry couldn't work out where it was. 

Snape had gotten the worst of Ron's blood. It had splashed across his face and was dripping into his eyes and mouth. Momentarily blinded, he swore and tried to wipe the worst of it from his face but only succeeded in smearing it further around. Curse broken, and perhaps sensing an easy target, the creature rounded on him. 

But Lockhart was too quick for it. Harry watched, amazed, as his normally useless Defence teacher thrust out his arm and batted at the creature. He uttered a pointless 'Shoo!' at it while attempting to push it away. Instead of obliging, it lunged. 

Each horrible leg wrapped around Lockhart's forearm, tearing through his fine silk robes with ease. "Now, Severus!" he shouted before his voice dissolved into an agonised scream when the legs pierced his skin and began to disappear underneath. 

Snape didn't need to be told twice. A stream of white-hot flames burst out of his wand aimed directly in line with the not-spider that had now fully latched onto Lockhart's arm. It let out a shriek more awful than ever before shrivelling in on itself and falling to the ground with a hollow thud. 

Lockhart breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Severus. That was good thinking using a fire-based charm, but if I were you, I would have-" 

But Snape wasn't listening. He was crouched over Ron, who thankfully had stopped jerking but was now lying much too still and covered in far too much blood. Snape began muttering yet another spell and trailing his wand over the large gash that was Ron's stomach. Harry marvelled as the blood began to flow back into his friend's body and the wound started to knit itself back together almost instantly. 

Harry turned to Lockhart and tried to ask several questions at once. What was that thing? How did it get inside Ron? Is he going to be okay? But it ended up coming out something like, "Wha...howdit...kay?" 

"A Scuttler," said Lockhart, apparently getting the gist. He nudged the shrivelled, burnt thing lying on the floor with his foot warily. "They aren't usually found in this country, but then again neither are Acromantula. Your friend here must have disturbed some of their larvae while you were off gallivanting about the forest. So lucky I-" Lockhart coughed when Snape shot him a glare, "-I mean, we were here! A moment longer and it would have reached his heart, and then...well...let's not dwell on that too much now, shall we?" 

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. 

***

It wasn't long before more help arrived in the form of Professor McGonagall. Who, in turn, arranged for more help to arrive in the form of Madam Pomfrey. By the time the medi-witch arrived Ron, miraculously, was sitting up, groggy and groaning but very much still alive. She still insisted on sending him to St. Mungos for a proper check-up, but that didn't stop Harry grinning from ear to ear.

"Urgh, Harry?" said Ron once he had been bundled onto a gurney. 

"Yeah, mate? I'm here." 

"Harry. There you are! I had this awful dream...'bout a spider..." 

"It wasn't a dream, Ron! Lockhart saved you! And Snape, too!" 

Ron laughed, clutched his stomach again the pain of it, then laughed again. "Good one!" he said, trying and failing not to giggle. "Snape and Lockhart! Snockhart!" He kept alternating between laughing and wincing in pain while they wheeled him away. 

"Well...that's gratitude for you," said Lockhart. 

Snape, who had stood back looking rather shell-shocked the whole time Ron was being checked over, finally spoke. "How did you know what to do?" he asked, touching Lockhart's arm. 

Lockhart flushed. "I, uh, came across it once or twice. Did you know I trained as a Healer for a time? You don't forget when one of those comes rushing through the door! I was rather good at it if I do say so myself. No money to be made, sadly. Had to give it up. Now haircare – that's where the money is! As I was telling you-" 

"You're bleeding," Snape interrupted. 

Lockhart was still covered in so much blood it was difficult to tell which was his, but sure enough when he raised his trembling arm, dark red trickled steadily from his many wounds. "Aaha!" Lockhart exclaimed, slightly manically. "I'd clean forgot! Must be all the adrenaline, you know? Perfectly natural response. Oh dear, I'm starting to feel rather faint..." 

Lockhart wobbled unsteadily but Snape caught him just in time. 

"We'll go to my office," said Snape. "I have blood replenishing potions. Then we'll see to your arm." Then he added in a slightly lower tone. "And after that...my quarters are close by...you look like you could use a stiff one." 

Still with a supporting arm around Lockhart, Snape spun him around and began carefully guiding him in the direction of the dungeons. Lockhart craned his neck to look at something just behind Harry, who turned to see the nymph from earlier had bustled her way into the nearest painting. She stood between a pair of armoured knights who were looking away awkwardly, probably because she was still naked, although somehow still strategically covered with waterlilies. She grinned at Lockhart from behind her sopping wet hair and gave him a thumbs up. One that Harry saw him briefly return.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I do whumptober right? I'm not sure I did it right. But I had fun. Yes the Scuttler is heavily based on a facehugger. Been watching too much Alien lately! Also the Nymph is based on one of my favourite Renoir paintings - 'A Nymph by the Stream'.


End file.
